Aren't We?
by IceFlake 77
Summary: We Filipinos are mild drinkers. We drink for only three good reasons. We drink when we are very happy. We drink when we are very sad. And we drink for any other reason."-'We Filipinos are Mild Drinkers' by Alejandro R. Roces. Warnings inside.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer:  
Based on Alejandro Roces' true story, "We Filipinos are Mild Drinkers"; references to the corrido "Ibong Adarna"; I don't own Hetalia Axis Powers; Juan dela Cruz is a product of all the Philippines-tans people on LJ and dA have been making so we barely own him…^_^;

Warnings:  
OC!Nation-tan (Philippines), alcohol usage, stereotyping, a bit of cursing, drunk!America, OOC!America, historical inaccuracy, TOTALLY UNORIGINAL PLOT

Summary:  
_"We Filipinos are mild drinkers. We drink for only three good reasons. We drink when we are very happy. We drink when we are very sad. And we drink for any other reason."_ – "We Filipinos are Mild Drinkers" by Alejandro R. Roces

**Author's Notes:  
1. Alright…XD This kinda came off the top of my head when were discussing "We Filipinos are Mild Drinkers" for English class and by that time, I was already obsessed with Hetalia so…yeah.  
2. I am so going to Hell for this. . *hides in the cave Bernardo Carpio stays in*  
3. PARA SA MGA KABABAYAN KO!!! XD [lolz, I got this edited 4 times just to get the Filipino parts right.]  
4. Alejandro Roces is officially my favorite local writer. XD  
5. It kinda gets slightly America x Philippines at some point (_) but please don't kill me!  
6. 'Kuya' is 'big brother' in Filipino; used in the same way as 'aniki'.**

* * *

**Aren't We?  
**_**By: IceFlake 77 & Clover Phantom (with help from Empurple)**_

The sun was quickly setting into the horizon as a boy who looked no older than fifteen tried to drag his carabao out of the mudhole he had taken it to an hour before.

"_Sige na, Pedro, uwi na tayo! Dumidilim na…"_ [Come on, Pedro, let's go home! It's getting dark…] He told the animal, which just looked at him quizzically and made a move to lie back down again. "_Pedro! Tayo na!" _[Stand up already!] He ordered, stomping his bare foot on the ground, which was still warm from being bathed in the hot tropical sun the whole day long.

"Well, I guess handling that thing isn't as easy as I first thought it was…" A voice behind him commented, the accent in the tone suggesting that he wasn't a local.

True enough, when Juan looked back, he found that the source was a tall, pale-skinned, blue-eyed, bespectacled blond, who was leaning casually against a tree, his hands in his pants' pockets due to the absence of his beloved brown jacket, as he watched the boy interact with the mammal.

"Hello, _kuya,_" Juan addressed Alfred with the same title he used on the other countries that were older than him. "What brings you to our _barrio_ today?" He looked up and corrected himself, "Eh…this evening."

"Your English is a bit off," Alfred said as he straightened up and approached the darker of the two of them. "You should've said 'my' instead of 'our'."

"Huh?" He gestured toward the carabao that still stubbornly refused to get out of the mud. "How about Pedro? He also belongs to this _barrio…_"

At that, the American cocked an eyebrow up and stared at him as if he were crazy. "Uh…right." He lifted his right hand to his forehead wiped the beads of sweat that were accumulating there with the back of his palm. He then muttered something about it being too hot for people to actually be comfortable.

"_Kuya, _you seem sad today," Juan spoke up, abandoning his efforts at trying to get Pedro to cooperate in order to go up and pat the taller man's shoulder. "Did anything happen?"

Alfred contemplated if he should tell him what happened or not then quickly decided to give a half-truth to spare the boy from any unnecessary guilt & worry. "Let's just say that Kiku and I got into a fight earlier…"

"Oh...?" The boy's brown eyes shone with utmost curiosity but he suppressed the urge to ask what caused the squabble.

A few moments of awkward silence went by, except for the tell-tale sounds of Pedro rolling over in the mud, and when it was obvious that the older of the two wasn't going to speak up any time soon, Juan smiled and piped up, "Well, I know just the thing that'll cheer you up! But first…" He trailed off as he turned and told his pet, _"Pedro! Kung hindi ka tatayo, iiwanan kita dito!" _[Pedro! If you won't stand up, I'll leave you here!]

The creature, in turn, just opened its mouth in a wide yawn, revealing the disgusting recesses of its mouth as a moth flew out of it, and lay its head down, staring at its owner dumbly.

"_Hay nako…" _Juan sighed and scratched the back of his head as he took off the _salakot _that had adorned it previously. After placing it back on, he faced the blond and said, "Well, let's go."

Alfred blinked and furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. "You're going to leave your…uh…"

"Carabao."

"…carabao here?"

"No need to worry about him; he knows how to take care of himself and he knows who owns him…Besides, it's not that easy to steal a 2,000-pound animal, and an extremely lazy one at that…" Juan shrugged. "I'll just come back for him later." He went forward and grabbed the other's wrist then proceeded to drag him down the dirt path they were standing on that would inevitably lead to a small wooden hut which served as the brunet's home. "Right now, you need a good drink to clear your mind."

"What do you plan on giving me anyway?" Alfred used his free hand to push his glasses, which were sliding down the bridge of his nose, up. "I don't see any bars or anything around…"

"It's true that my country doesn't have that many bars but that's because Filipinos are characteristically known to be mild drinkers; we don't need alcohol that much. But when we do, we don't drink what you Westerners drink."

"What do you drink then?"

"We drink _lambanog."_

"_La…lambanog?" _He repeated with a little difficulty, "What does that taste like?"

"You will know." They stopped in front of a house that resembled all the others nearby where Juan's stood but they didn't go in just yet. Going up to the well next to the structure that was surely not going to hold up against a fire if ever it were confronted with one, the short, tan boy rolled up his scarlet capri pants, despite knowing that it wouldn't make a difference even if he didn't, and washed the dirt and mud from his feet and shins. After washing his hands and dropping the bucket back down rather unceremoniously, he went to the other side of the road, to where a _calamansi _tree stood and picked a few pieces.

Upon his return, the 19-year-old pointed to the round fruits in his hand and asked, "What're those?"

"These?" He held one up. "These are _calamansi._ They're citrusy and sour…" He tried to recall the word Americans used for it.

"You mean like lemons?"

"Yes," he remembered now, "Yes, you could say that these are Philippine lemons. They'll be our…our…" He trailed off then inquired directly, "What do you call those things that you eat after taking a hard drink to make the flavor less intense…?"

"…Chasers?" He replied, not sure if that was what he meant.

"Well, whatever you call them, that's what they are." Smiling, the boy ascended up the bamboo ladder that led up to his house. Alfred followed close behind.

When they got inside, the blond stopped abruptly at the entrance, temporarily blinded by the darkness that encircled him, since evening had just set, while Juan calmly walked over to the corner of the room, shuffled around with something then returned with a crudely made, but neatly improvised candle.

"Please sit down," he said, setting the coconut shell, from which the soft light was coming from, onto the floor.

Blue eyes scanned the empty room for a chair he might've missed. When none came into their line of vision, the owner queried slowly, "…Where?"

"On the floor, of course!" Juan replied as if it were obvious and started to laugh, before disappearing into a separate room, which appeared to be the kitchen.

Alfred sat down on the floor as he was told to and looked around at the four wooden walls that surrounded him. 'Such a simple lifestyle…' He observed, 'Everything here is made simply for convenience…and comfort, if this is how they like it.'

"I'm back," the voice snapped the American back to reality as the person talking came forward with a foot-high tray that held four polished coconut shells and a long bamboo tube of…something in his hands. He sat across him and set the tray down, continuing, "You know…_lambanog _actually serves as more than just a drink for us Filipinos. Other than being that, it is used to counter the poison from snake bites, an insecticide, and to tan carabao hide."

At the last statement, the Westerner stuttered, "E-Excuse me…?"

"It can be used to tan carabao hide; why?" Juan said as if it weren't strange for an alcoholic beverage to be used that way.

And it probably wasn't for him.

Alfred sighed and thought, 'Geez, this should tell me how it supposedly tastes like now…' as he just watched the boy do what he was doing.

"Here," he handed one of the coconut shells filled with a white liquid to him, which he had to accept in return, then started to talk about how it was made. "_Lambanog _is actually made by extracting the sap of the coconut tree then mixing it with pulverized mangrove bark in order to prevent it from spoiling. In other parts of the Philippines, they call this drink '_tuba'. _Worldwide, it's known as palm wine or coconut wine."

"I see…" He barely listened as he glanced at his glistening reflection in the drink, oblivious to what the other male was doing until he bothered to look up and immediately saw Juan pour a little of the drink onto the floor, watching it seep through the cracks. "…What are you doing?" He furrowed his eyebrows at the strange action. "That was kind of a waste of good liquor, don't you think?" He wasn't sure if it was good yet but…

"When drinking _lambanog, _it is customary that the host pours a little onto the ground. It shows that we appreciate what the earth has given to us so we must return at least a little of what we have taken from it." He explained with ease.

Alfred simply stared at him.

He raised the coconut shell slightly. "To the end of the war,"

"To the end of the war," he repeated and they clacked their drinks together.

Juan, without the slightest bit of hesitation, placed the container to his lips and gulped all of it down. Automatically, he grabbed a slice of _calamansi _from the short table, dipped it in coarse salt that sat in another bowl and squirted the juice into his mouth. Shivering, he shook his head quickly. "Ah…" he rasped after swallowing.

Alfred cringed slightly at that but quickly forced himself to appear uncaring about it as expectant eyes landed on him. He looked down at the coconut shell in his hands, at the liquid it held, more specifically, and thought, 'Well, how bad can it be?' before drinking the whole thing in one fell swoop, just like what the boy did.

It tasted horrible.

The blond resisted the urge to just spit the drink out and forced himself to swallow it. It must've showed on his face how much he disliked the taste because Juan soon reassured him, "Don't worry, it takes a little getting used to but after a while, it goes down smoothly…" He looked straight up and saw the mirth dancing in the Filipino's eyes.

"Chaser," was all Alfred could manage saying, his voice scratchy and hoarse.

The brunet gave him a slice of the citrus fruit, which he had taken the liberty of dipping in salt already, and he squeezed the juice of it into his mouth, cringing at the sourness. After his taste buds had settled down, Alfred quietly cursed under his breath, and let the shell drop onto the floor.

Hot. The world around him started feeling extremely, ridiculously **hot. **His body was on fire; he started sweating profusely (compared to earlier); and he suddenly found it very hard to breathe. Growing jealous at how Juan was shirtless and didn't seem so bothered by the warmth, the thought of taking off his own crossed his mind but he promptly decided against it.

"_Kuya, _are you okay?" Juan asked him sincerely, leaning forward to pat the other man's back a little.

"I'm fine."

"I know!" He exclaimed like a little child, holding the bamboo tube up, "You just need another drink!" With that, he tipped the tube downwards and filled his and Alfred's cups once again.

"To America," the host enthusiastically raised his shell.

"To America," the blond had to smile at that. The kid knew how to be a good host, except for the fact that he wasn't noticing that his guest wasn't particularly enjoying what they were doing.

They drank this one simultaneously.

Once again, liquid heat travelled down his esophagus and to his stomach, where he could practically feel it pool at. Alfred coughed a little but overall, it wasn't as bad as the first shot. 'He's right; it just takes a little getting used to…'

He spoke too soon. The temperature in the hut rose again for him; it felt like a furnace already. Without thinking, the American peeled off his sweat-drenched white shirt and threw it to the side, not caring that much on where it landed. He wanted to badly to place his glasses somewhere where he knew he couldn't break them but alas, he'd be half-blind if he did, so they stayed on his face.

Juan, who seemed as level-headed as he had been even before they had started, offered, "How about another drink? You still seem pretty tense."

"Nah, 'm pretty sure 'm okay…" He tried to refuse, his words slurring into each other, as his vision swam; the boy in front of him looked as if he were split into two. It took him a lot of willpower not to just tell the kid, straight out, that his coconut wine sucked. Shuddering, he ran a hand through his slightly wet hair which had gotten damp with his sweat.

"Aw, but you came all the way here just to get two shots?" Juan pouted; his hands were already on the bamboo tube once again.

Brown met blue and the bespectacled man sighed after a few moments and grumbled, "Well, 'kay…I guess one more…" He placed a hand on the floor to prevent himself from falling over since he seemed to be having an inexplicably hard time balancing, even if he was just sitting.

"Okay!" He smiled and refilled both containers. "To the Philippines!" He brought his up.

"To the…Philippines…" He answered weakly as he brought the cup to his lips with shaking hands and drank.

And it was finished; he let himself be dragged more and more into the dark world of intoxication.

The response of his body was rather frightening. Without any prior warning, Alfred suddenly flung his empty coconut shell to one of the walls of the small house then started laughing like a madman.

Juan, on the other hand, expected this to come; after all, he had seen the scenario numerous times before when he had been drinking with friends for it to have become rather routine already. _Just let the drunk person talk to their heart's content_, he had been told many times, _or at least until they pass out._

"Y'know, Juaaaaan," Alfred dragged out, his way of talking now resembling Berwald's; his head lolled around on his shoulders as he leaned backward on his elbows, "I'm so glad I bought ya from Antonio before…It was real worth th' money, y'know!"

"Mhm…" A tendril of anger spiked up in Juan's chest at the reminder that he was just **bought **from his former colonizer just to become the subject of another. 'He's drunk, he doesn't know what he's talking about…He's drunk, he doesn't know what he's talking about…' he repeated in his head as a mantra as he subconsciously fisted his hands on his lap.

"An' after that, Kiku tried takin' ya away but 'course, me, bein' America an' all that, I couldn't jus' let that happen, riiiiiight?" He accompanied his rather twisted and horribly-narrated epic with unnecessarily tedious hand movements. "Yeah, it's true tha' he might've beaten me first an' made ya suffer an' all tha' but I showed him, didn't I? Yeah, I showed him th' true American spirit! Never mess around with th' hero, right, Juaaaaaaan?"

"Of course…" he just agreed. It was sort of true. America had saved the Philippines from the tyranny and cruelty of the Japanese troops that had invaded the country at the start of World War II.

"Hey, Juaaaaaaan, I've been thinkin'…" Juan made it a point to listen to every single word Alfred was saying, even **if **they were just drunken ramblings.

"Yes, what is it?" He went closer to hear the older man's words better.

"You're old enough t' take care of yerself, riiiiiiight? I mean, Antonio kinda raised ya an' I basically just became yer babysitter…An' Kiku…" The blond drew his eyebrows together as he frowned. "Well, Kiku doesn't count. Anywho, I was thinkin'…what d' ya think 'bout becomin' an independent country?"

He blinked multiple times, cleaned his ears using his pinkies and slapped himself softly just to make sure he wasn't mishearing things. "E…Excuse me?"

"Ya heard me…I said, what d' ya think 'bout becomin' an independent country?" His tone of voice betrayed that he was quickly becoming annoyed.

'This has to be a lie…' Juan thought frantically as his mind was racing to keep up with all the possibilities that he had envisioned for his country ever since he thought he had been liberated from Spain. 'This has to be a lie, it's got to be…He's drunk and he doesn't know half of what he's saying. It's got to be a lie; it's just got to be!' He was about to answer when Alfred interrupted him.

"I just kinda figured tha'…hey! I used t' be a colony an' I didn't really like it tha' much…Sure, I could just keep ya an' everything but yer days of bein' a misbehaved little kid are over, aren't 'ey?"

"But I…" 'A lie; it's got to be a lie…A big preposterous lie that he probably won't remember tomorrow…'

"Juan." He sat up once again and leaned nearer to Juan, their noses almost touching, and he stared straight into apprehensive coffee-colored eyes.

Juan's voice died in his throat and all his doubts were blown away. Beneath all the drunkenness, he could see that Alfred was being serious about this matter. Lost in those cerulean orbs, he couldn't bring himself to look away, despite the awkward distance between them. He could smell the scent of the coconut wine they had just drunk, along with a tinge of _calamansi, _fresh on the other man's heavy breaths as he continued to speak.

"I know ya'd make a great country, no matter what the others say. I believe in you."

"_Kuya…" _Was all he was able to get out before the American suddenly fell forward, pressing his face against the smaller boy's shoulder. "_Kuya?!"_

The only response he got in return was the soft snores of his colonizer.

Juan blinked once, twice, before his gaze softened on the blond head that was leaning against him. Without considering anything, he enveloped the other's body in a hug.

"_Salamat po, kuya…" _He whispered, smiling.

* * *

**Author's Notes:  
;) IceFlake 77 here. This was originally a one-shot but Clover said that it was too long so...yeah. xD Two chappies for you. :D**

**Please leave a review! Flames aren't accepted, but we're open to criticism. :)**


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Notes:  
Second chapter here to pick up from where chapter 1 left off~ :D Enjoy!**

* * *

Now, Arthur Kirkland was a man who considered himself pretty much prepared for anything; be it a new challenge life threw at him or one of the irritating, completely avoidable mishaps of one of the other nations. He had the seven seas to thank for that.

Numerous out just sailing around through the international waters was what molded him into the bright, refined gentleman he was today who was very hard to catch off-guard. If another country decided to attack him, he knew he could maintain a cool head, along with a tactful mind, and devise an equally clever counterattack in a short span of time.

Nothing at all, though, could've prepared him for seeing Juan dela Cruz, along with that damn filthy water buffalo of his, to show up on the front step of his peaceful London home, where he and the rest of the Allied Forces were having a meeting in the living room, bringing with him unconscious, drunk-off-his-ass Alfred Jones.

* * *

"Really sorry if I'm interrupting anything, _kuya," _Juan apologized as he sheepishly scratched the back of his neck, smiling nervously up at the Englishman. "It's just that…you see…"

Pedro, the muddy carabao that seemed very much disturbed by both the gloomy British weather and the American dead-weight that was on his back, rapidly shook his head, grunting lowly, as he spun his tail around erratically, mimicking the movements of an electric fan, from where he was standing: a few feet behind his owner.

"No, it's really quite alright…" Arthur automatically answered, not aware that he did so, whilst staring at the unconscious Alfred. He couldn't help but wonder what could have caused him to pass out so…ungracefully.

"Well, I just came here to drop off Kuya Alfie," the tan boy said as he looked back at his pet and the man that was lying down on top of it.

The green-eyed man snapped out of his daze and offered, "Wh-Why don't you come inside for a while? You must be tired from travelling such a long way just to deliver this idiot…" He hoped that he didn't make it too obvious that he wanted to know what had happened as well.

"Ah, thank you but…how about Pedro?"

"…Pardon?"

Juan simply pointed at the animal in question.

"Er, well…uh…" Arthur tried to think. There was absolutely no way that that giant…**thing **could fit through the front door.

"…Oh, I know!" Like an excited child, the Filipino ran over to his carabao and tugged it along using the creature's horns until they reached the sidewalk, to where a silver, partially rusty parking meter stood.

This was another thing he wasn't expecting. "Ah, Juan," he tried to stop him but before he was able to actually gather up his wits and walk to where he was, the boy whipped his head round and gave a thumbs-up.

"It's alright! I already paid!"

Two things registered in Arthur's head. First was the fact that Juan had just walked over to a parking meter and, quite literally, 'parked' his carabao into the space. Second was that he said he paid for it, despite not having any pounds that the blond was aware he had.

"_Pedro, dito ka lang, _okay?" [Pedro, just stay here, okay?] He gave the big mammal a loving pat on the head then called over his shoulder, "_Kuya, _I might need a few more people to help me carry Kuya Alfie! It took me and four of my neighbors just to carry him out of my house and so…"

"Eh…eh…sure…" He was still dazed from the silliness and abruptness of everything that had just happened, not to mention how random it was, as he sauntered into his living room, where Francis, Ivan and Yao had been kept waiting.

"What happened to you?" Francis asked in a rather mocking tone as he leaned back in the plush armchair he was sitting on, raising an eyebrow.

"Nothing much; just that Philippines and his blasted buffalo just arrived, bearing a drunken Alfred. Then he literally parked aforementioned buffalo next to a meter and somehow paid for it without using money…" He forced himself to snap out of his reverie, in fear that he end up saying something stupid.

"…It's either you're spouting some really strange nonsense that you believe is true or you're lying."

"I'm not! Look out there yourself, why don't you? And besides, Juan needs some help because he can't carry Alfred on his own." He sputtered out, pointing at the front door a few paces behind him.

"Ah, _kuya, _I don't need help anymore!" Juan's voice floated over to their ears as he pushed the slightly ajar door to make a wider opening using his shoulder, as his back was facing them from what they could see.

And much to the Allied Forces' chagrin, it was none other than the members of the Axis Powers who had decided to stop by and help the scrawny tropical nation.

The tan boy entered first, carrying one leg of the unconscious man he had the misfortune of taking care of; and Feliciano, who seemed to be his usual self, more happy than what was presumed as sane, followed close behind, carrying the other limb.

Behind the two of them were Ludwig, who looked like he was about ready to kill something, and the ever-so-stoic Kiku; both of whom were supporting the upper body.

And somewhere outside, Pedro '_ungaaa'_d loudly.

"Hi, everyone!" Feliciano, who didn't seem to mind (or simply wasn't aware) that he was addressing his supposed enemies. "We just happened to pass by…uh…" He furrowed his eyebrows and turned to the person beside him. "Hey, what's your name again?"

"I'm Juan." He didn't seem to mind the small bout of rudeness.

The happy-go-lucky smile returned full-fledge as the Italian continued, "We just happened to be passing by Juan here while he was trying to get Alfred off his cow by himself and so, we decided to go and help him!"

By that point, Arthur was sure if Ludwig didn't have both his hands full, he would've either slapped his forehead, or strangled Feliciano.

Perhaps both.

"Wow," Ivan stood up and walked over to where Alfred was being hauled; his eyes were wide like an innocent child's, a far cry from what his inner personality really was like. "He looks really out of it…" He gave off the aura of being more curious than actually concerned as he poked Alfred's cheek.

"Pedro's a carabao; he's not a cow…" Juan softly corrected the Italian then turned to the tallest of all of them in the room. "Please don't do that…You might bruise _kuya's _cheek."

Wordlessly, the Russian slowly drew back his hand.

"Thank you," Juan said; he turned his head to England. "Ah, where should I put _kuya_?"

"There's a nearby guestroom here on the first floor," Arthur replied. "That will have to do for now, everyone will be going, alright?"

He almost felt sorry for Ludwig when Feliciano immediately said, "Okay!"

So both the Allied and Axis parties quietly followed Arthur; once in the empty bedroom, they placed Alfred on the bed. Arthur sat on a chair, Ivan decided to just stand, Francis was outside in case he was going to be… himself, Feliciano happily bounced on the bed where the drunk American was sleeping, and the rest opted to sit on the carpeted floor.

"Alright, first— Why in the bloody hell are you three here?!" He nearly forgot about them.

"Ve~! Don't worry about us, we're not going to fight you guys," Feliciano happily replied. "Juan was under Spain once, like my brother! I want to know stuff about him!"

The Italian then turned to Ludwig, and Arthur was impressed at the way the weakest member of their group persuaded the stoic German with his kicked puppy look. The sparkles rivaled the ones his fairy friends had.

"Alright," Ludwig sighed, feeling very tired. "But only for today."

"Back to what I said," Arthur said, clasping his hands together and looking at the young colony. "Why is Alfred in his state right now?"

"Oh, it's nothing to worry about!" Juan said, smiling. "_Kuya_ and I were just drinking in my house; he got really drunk easily…"

"Heeeh? Alfred isn't the type to be drunk that fast." Ivan pondered, curious on what alcohol did the Filipino give.

"That's true, aru," Yao said. "It's usually Arthur who is the tipsy one, aru."

Arthur merely glared at both of them.

"Oh, I brought the bottle with me!" Juan then had a glass bottle on his hand that seemed to pop out from his red bandana. Arthur's left eye twitched, the boy probably learnt that from the idiot. How else would you explain the hamburgers that seemed to pop in front of the blond as if by will?

"… Wait, that prat actually allowed you to drink?" He glared at the unconscious so-called prat. He taught him better than that, allowing a fourteen-year old boy to drink was very irresponsible, even for him!

"We only drank a few shots, and it would be rude if I didn't drink with him," Juan explained. "I would be a bad host if I didn't want to."

Arthur frowned at the answer; he was definitely lecturing Alfred once he was sober.

"Well, it wouldn't do good to waste a drink, would it?" Ivan cheerily said. "How about we try some of that…"

"_Lambanog_," Juan supplied.

"Yes, _lambanog_, we should have some, this is probably the last time all of us will be in friendly terms." He gave an innocent smile.

Yao and Kiku didn't seem to mind, Feliciano happily agreed, and Arthur and Ludwig reluctantly agreed as well.

Juan beamed at them, it was too bad _kuya_ was sleeping. He would miss the fun.

* * *

Ivan laughed at the chaos going on in Arthur's house; after only a few minutes of drinking the La-whatever it was, everyone was instantly a swaying and slurring mess. He had to admit, what the boy brought was pretty strong stuff, and was impressed that he still had a clear head, albeit blotches of pink were already appearing on his cheeks.

"Kiii~iku… whu' happen when you were so~oo small an' chu~te-aruyooo?" slurred Yao to Feliciano, slinging his arm around the Italian. Both of them swayed in random directions. "We used ta' 'ave lot'cha fuuun…"

Feliciano giggled, slapping the back of his drunken mate.

"Ve, ve, ve, ve! 'Mm not Ki-ki-whu'ever you call'd me," he replied, giggling non-stop. "My name's Feliciiiaa~anoo~o!"

"Tha's choo' long-aruu! Ca' I call yooouu Shampoo~o, in'teaad?"

Kiku was currently bowing to the wall, slurring out what seemed to be apologies in Japanese.

Francis was currently doing something extremely inappropriate, and not to mention _illegal,_ to the chair Arthur was sitting on awhile ago. Juan made a mental note to tell the owner of the house to burn it afterwards.

Arthur somehow got dressed in an angel suit, and was actually flying, bonking Ludwig on the head with a plastic star wand, and screaming 'You got me booty!' repeatedly.

Ludwig was just staring at Arthur like how a child would look at a mountain of candy, and was drooling.

It seemed like Alfred was the lucky one, being rendered unconscious. Ivan somehow conjured up a camera out of nowhere and was currently clicking away while drinking his vodka, which also came from nowhere. Juan wondered if he was using the technique _kuya_ used when eating hamburgers.

"I AM TEH HOLY ROMAN EMPAH-YEEE~ER! FEAR ME!" Ludwig suddenly screamed, fists pumped up, startling Arthur. The German then began running around rambling about potatoes.

Ivan laughed again, and Juan actually joined him.

* * *

Alfred groaned as light hit his half-asleep eyes. His head hurt like hell, what happened?

Oh, now he remembered, he was drinking his ward's _lambanog_.

He slowly got up, groping the bed he seemed to be lying on.

'Damn, where are my glasses?'

A blob suddenly sat on the bed he was lying on.

"Here you go, _kuya_." He graciously took what the brown and black blob gave him and put it on. The blob was replaced with Juan, who was grinning at him.

"Good morning, _kuya_! Did you have a nice sleep?"

"Could be worse," Alfred said, observing his surroundings with curiosity. "What _happened?_"

Juan snickered.

"_Lambanog_," He said simply.

"Ah."

"Well, I better look for Kuya Arthur," he said, standing up and walking towards the door. "I lost sight of him a while ago, and he's still very… delusional."

He was about to leave until he heard his big brother's voice.

"I wasn't joking, you know," the American said quietly as he stood up and started to make his way toward the door. "You'll be a great country, and I promise you, you're gonna get your independence."

Juan smiled; he felt a huge burst of happiness in his chest.

"I know, and thank you… you're truly my _kuya_ for me, and not in the sense of just an honorific."

He left the room, leaving the young boy alone. Alfred smiled; he was a good kid, really. He just had the rotten luck of getting horrible big brothers.

"BRITANNNIA BEAM!"

"Waaaaaaah!"

_**Crash! Bonk! Wham!**_

"Ugh, well. I found Iggy."

"Do you have a wish, young man? I can grant it, for I am the Britannia Angel!"

'_Just how __**strong **__is __that stuff Juan got?'_

* * *

It was already approaching evening when all the commotion in Arthur's house finally died down, leaving only drunk Nations who were sleeping (Straying in and out of sleep in their drunken state all night long must've taken quite the toll, after all), broken pieces of furniture, and irremoveable carpet stains in its wake.

The only people who were still awake were Juan, who seemed as sober as ever; Alfred, who had just finished putting Arthur down somewhere to sleep; and Ivan, who was smiling like a little child on Christmas Eve.

The blond sighed and scratched his head as he surveyed the mess that used to be the living room. Arthur would definitely _not _be happy when he finally woke up. He couldn't help but smile, despite himself. An angry Arthur was always entertaining to see.

"Well," the tallest of the three of them started, smiling at Juan. "You seem like you can hold your alcohol well, da~"

Alfred resisted the urge to snort at that comment. 'What an understatement…'

The Filipino, in turn, awkwardly grinned back. "Th-Thank you…?" He didn't know if he was supposed to take that as a compliment or not.

"The others can't handle alcohol as well as you do," Ivan mentioned. "How would you like to come to my house sometime to sample some drinks, da? I'm sure you haven't tried that many varieties of vodka before, have you?"

"Ah, that's a very nice offer, Kuya Ivan…" he answered. "But I'm afraid I have to decline."

A few moments passed before he finished,

"You see, we Filipinos are mild drinkers."

* * *

**Author's Note:  
According to something I read a few months back, lambanog is typically 80-90 proof but can go as high as 166 (at least…here in the Philippines, it can. XD). From what I heard, traditional Russian vodka is typically 80 proof. :D**

**And if any of you were wondering about why Philippines' name differs in this story (This is addressing the people who read 'Just Today,' wherein Philippines' name is Felipe), this was written about...half a year ago and since then, we decided to give Philippines-tan a cooler name. XD**

**Thanks for reading! Hope you enjoyed and please leave a review~**

**-IceFlake 77 & Clover Phantom-**


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